


You'd Do Anything For Me, Wouldn't You, Mr. Way?

by xxthisbr0kencityskyxx



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Art School, Artist Gerard Way, Asshole Frank Iero, Author's Favorite, Bottom Gerard Way, Boyfriends, Depression, Dom Frank Iero, Drug Use, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frerard, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, My Chemical Romance References, Punk Frank Iero, Student Brendon Urie, Student Frank Iero, Sub Gerard Way, Sub Patrick Stump, Teacher Gerard Way, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teen Frank Iero, Top Frank Iero, Top Pete Wentz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxthisbr0kencityskyxx/pseuds/xxthisbr0kencityskyxx
Summary: "You know I should punish you, Frankie." He said, writing today's lesson on the chalkboard and then rewriting it in cursive to discourage the kids. No one could read that guy's handwriting, not even the English teacher."I know." Frank smiled, mock innocence detectable in his voice.Gerard is an overworked, underpaid, alcoholic, art teacher who just wants a break from these relentless high schoolers; Frank is a charming, smart-ass teenager who will give Mr. Way anything but a break.





	You'd Do Anything For Me, Wouldn't You, Mr. Way?

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a one shot I wrote awhile back that I still love so much and it manages to make me laugh even when I'm depressed. I posted it to a few other websites so why not here as well?  
> It's a shit show but a great one.

Most knew him as Mr. Way, and to some, he was simply 'the school master.' Because that's what Gerard Way was; the head master of the boarding school owned by his father. None of the students dared to call him 'Gerard,' that was disrespectful; although there was one student in particular, Frank Iero, who didn't care too much about being respectful, or traditional, or anything else along the lines of. Surprisingly, Mr. Way responded the same; but only towards the eighteen year old boy who threw paper airplanes at him while he directed the class. He'd send a disapproving glare towards the kid, nothing more or less, and continue teaching. Now normally, if the unruly boy had been anyone but this one, he'd be given detention, or punishment, (scrubbing the bathroom floors was one of them). But this was Frank Iero, and there was always an excepetion for him. Everyone knew that.

School had just started up again. It was only the middle of September, and the sun was still shining brightly throughout the day, taunting the teenagers cooped up inside the classroom to come outside and thrive in it.

If you had asked them, any of the kids forced to wear the school's uniform, and worse, sit in the classroom the entire day while wearing it, they would have all complained about being robbed of their Summer. None of them had wanted Summer to end. Not only could they laze around all day in their pajamas with a cigarette hanging out of their mouths and play video games whenever desired, but most importantly; there wasn't a teacher in sight. No one to force them to stay up half the night, slaving over a book report due the very next morning. The only authority figures constantly present were the boys' parents. Sure your mom was always demanding that you finally get to cleaning your room, and your dad often suggested the thought of finding a Summer job, but they weren't teachers. You didn't have to listen to them. You were supposed to, but most of the teenage guys attending the school thought otherwise. Could that be the very reason they were shipped off to boarding school? Because they didn't give a damn about their parents instructions, or really anything at all. The school wasn't necessarily a reform school; but you couldn't just show up in your favorite band t-shirt and jeans, with your hair a mess and yesterday's eyeliner smudged under your eyes because you fell asleep on your parents couch the night before; no, that wasn't allowed. Not at all. You apparently weren't supposed to arrive with a cigarette in your mouth, either. 

He knew this, obviously, because from the time he turned fifteen his parents had began sending him to all kinds of schools in their failing attempt to fix their son's bad behavior. He hadn't, however, been to this school. The school where Mr.Way was in charge of him, and for the entire year. If the thirty year old man who wore tight pants and still dyed his hair had been anyone other than Gerard Way, Frank probably would've ditched the enormous building and hitchhiked to Canada or something drastic like that.  
Frank was always one for taking drastic measures. He just loved to be noticed for anything he did, even if not praised for it. He just craved attention--especially from the quick-witted school master. 

It all started the first morning he was dropped off at the boys' school and assigned to Mr. Way's classroom by this cheerful guy with an afro.  
Now, Frank didn't like to hope for someone to get hit by a bus the moment he met them; no he had to be properly acquainted first. But this guy, this tall, cheery guy with the blue striped tie, who snatched the cigarette from Frank's lips the second he'd shaken hands with him--this one could walzt into open traffic for all he cared. 

"You must be Frank! Your parents told me all about you over the email I received yesterday." Ray beamed, still shaking the short teenager's hand with both of his clasped over Frank's. 

"They did, huh? What'd they say?" Frank asked, slipping his hands from the strange man. 

"Well, they told me you were eager to learn, hard working, and-" 

"Yeah, okay, stop lying. There's no way my parents said that. They hate me." 

Frank crammed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. 

"You shouldn't lie to children, sir. That's dishonest." 

Frank was just guilt-tripping the poor man by now. Everyone knew he didn't he give a crap about that foreign word 'honesty.'

Ray hung his head. He had actually felt for the boy when the email arrived. All his parents said was to 'discipline the ungrateful bastard,' nothing more except formalities. 

"You're right, I shouldn't lie. What kind of role model am I? I-I can't believe myself--lying to kids." Ray said, the guy actually sounded frenzied, or disappointed in himself, but that was Frank's opinion. 

"Well, if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say." 

The--teacher(?) nodded and sighed lightly.  
"And I'm sure they don't hate you," Ray began optimistically, "I mean you seem like such a promising young man." 

Frank rolled his eyes.

He flopped down in the fabricated chair placed in front of the desk, carelessly tossing his duffle bag to the floor as if Ray's office were his own bedroom. He leaned forward, only to read the little gold nametag situated neatly at the head of the desk. 

'Ray Toro: Guidence Counselor' 

Well that explains a hell of a lot; not every detail, but a lot. 

So this man--or big child, (Frank wasn't sure which description to use), was in charge of helping 'troubled' boys such as himself, with their 'behavioral issues' and 'emotional insecurity.' 

Frank wasn't sure what to think, except that he didn't have emotions, or need them; he could really use a smoke or just a drop of anything alcoholic. Now that stuff, unlike honesty and emotions, he needed.

"Yeah, well, my parents kinda hate me cause I'm worth hating. I steal from my dad's wallet and curse at my mom. I think they regret having sex-" Frank motioned to himself, "because this was the result." He grinned at Ray's shocked and horrified look at the use of the 's' word- almost as proudly as he did when he'd won that stupid bet last week with one of his friends. He and his group of friends were idiots and they knew it. In fact, they might have actually thrived on the thought of knowing so. 

'Hell yeah I'll drink an entire carton of milk for five bucks,' was Frank's insist. This was what the guys did with their time and the little money they had. 

In the end, Frank threw up all over the kitchen floor, but hey, he got his five bucks. That would surely buy him a pack of cigarettes.

Ray stood dumbfounded, rubbing his forehead. He didn't know what to think when the new kid, (who he'd just realized was seated in his chair), put his feet on his desk; then leaned back as comfortably as a prince would in his throne. It wasn't even his chair, this place wasn't a castle, it was a school, and Frank here most certainly wasn't royalty. 

Frank smirked knowingly as the soles of his worn Converse stared back at the stunned guidance counselor. He knew he'd just lost any sliver of respect this counselor had to offer. He was overjoyed at the mere thought.

You should know, guys like Frank Iero didn't want respect from somewhat successful adults who actually applied themselves and paid attention back in school, boys like Frank lusted for admiration from guys who could fit their entire head in an unwrapped condom. And without the plastic even splitting.  
That was most definately honorable behavior, because the picture taken that afternoon did get twenty five likes on Instagram and would totally have the cheerleaders fawning over them.

"You better get to class," Ray said flatly, "put this on and get going."

Frank grimaced when handed the uniform he was supposed to wear. 

"No way in hell am I wearing this." 

"If you don't, Mr. Way will see to it you do. You might think you know hell, but you haven't dealt with that man when he hasn't had his morning coffee." 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

Frank's question went unanswered as both were startled by the first period bell going off.

Frank grabbed his bag as he jumped up from the chair. It wasn't abnormal for him to run late to class, especially on his first day of school. He was always tardy the first day. It was kind of his thing. 

"I'll see you and your fro later," Frank pulled a half empty pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, purposely making the scene of selectively choosing one of the eight cancer sticks and lighting it right before exiting the office. 

Frank decided that he'd just change into the un-stylish uniform and get this over with. Might as well dress appropriately for your first day of hell. Frank knew it would be hell resisiting the orders of caffeine deprived man, whoever he may be.

He rushed down the long hallway, eyes darting from one side of the wall to the other. He would have surely continued his unpleasant jog if he hadn't spotted the bathroom, two doors ahead on the left. 

Using his shoulder, he pushed the bathroom door open, then looking around to make sure no one else was in here, he started to strip right in the open. Everyone was already in class anyway, right? You're probably thinking, 'but aren't there bathroom stalls? What's up with this kid taking everything but his boxers off when someone could stroll right through the door?' 

Well, first off, he was late. 

Second, yeah there were bathroom stalls, bathroom stalls that smelled like some kid didn't know how to aim properly and pissed all over the floor and his shoes. 

Third, no one was going to- 

"What the hell?!" 

Frank froze on the spot, only for a split second cause he had to pull his pants up. He stared up at a man dressed in a black vest and tight fitted dress pants. A man not another kid. And worst, a teacher. Frank thought he'd lived through embarrassment, but nothing describes shame like a hot guy accidentally seeing you in your underwear. 

"You kids must love hearing me talk if I'm always having to repeat myself when speaking to you. What the hell are you doing?"

Frank hadn't noticed he'd been standing hunched over in attempt to hide his unclothed body until after he caught sight of his cigarette now on the floor, at his feet, and not between his teeth where it should've been; cause he was gaping with his mouth open. 

"I-I um, I was trying to get to class," was all the boy could manage. 

"I see. Were you planning on coming naked? What's with all this?" The taller man pointed out the mess of clothes on the dark blue tiles like his mom did when she discovered he still hadn't cleaned his room. Frank now found himself watching how the man flaired out his pinky finger as he motioned to the clothing, instead of answering his question. He decided he liked the older man's hands. It's not that perverted if you look at it from Frank's view--he was for some reason, fascinated over the way the man gestured his hands while he spoke, and that there was something dainty about his slender fingers. 

"Ugh.Teenagers." The guy slapped a hand over his face, too harshly to be considered a mere face-palm. "Damn it! Now look what you've done," the teacher stared down at his ink stained hand, then rushed over to peer into the giant mirror above the row of sinks. 

"I came in here to wash my hand after a pen leaked on me," he grumbled, turning on the faucet and staring at the hand print of blue ink on his cheek, forehead, and partially his eyelid, which he was squinting out of as the ink slathered it. The teacher yanked a few cardboard colored paper towels from the dispenser and continued chatting away with this shirtless teenage kid he'd never met before--because that wasn't creepy at all. 

"Those damned pens. I placed an order for new ones last month, but for whatever reason they weren't shipped here. Can you believe that?" The man scoffed, drying his hands. He looked into the mirror at the quiet boy. 

"You're not one for talking, huh? Well, I'll change that," he scrubbed at the stains until they were hardly visible; not unless you got up in face and stared could you see the remains of ink--which no one would do. 

"I'm Mr. Way, by the way," he said, a smile playing on his thin lips. 

Frank, who could only nod, quickly pulled the white dress shirt on and began to button it as a distraction. No way was he about to make eye contact with Mr. Way.  
Surprisingly enough, Frank could actually tie, a tie, so that's what he did next. His parents had sent to that Catholic school once, guess it paid off.

Mr. Way was still there, lingering in front of the sinks, but was facing Frank now.

Was this a good sign? 

"You know how to do that?" He asked, in what some might call amazement. 

"Huh? You mean my tie? Yeah, course I know how. I'm not you." Frank spoke up, referring to Mr. Way's slightly crooked and knotted silk tie.

"I always have such a hard time with them," Mr. Way went on, "guess that's why I flunked boy scouts when I was in middle school. I don't know." 

Frank finished with his tie, and then snatched up the blue school jacket. 

"Tying a tie isn't the same as a knot. Thought you'd know that." 

"Well I didn't, but thanks for informing me. Could you fix mine?" The man smiled, this time displaying his teeth, as he undid the armaturish 'knot,' as Frank called it. 

Was this guy nuts? No, Frank didn't want to fix his tie. He'd just been publicly humiliated and this Mr. Way had the audacity to ask such a thing. 

"Um, sure," Frank shrugged, biting his lip as he began tying the silk the right way this time. He finished in no time and stood back to admire his work. He reached out shyly, straightening the tie so it was centered almost perfectly. 

"There ya go." Frank nodded, turning and gathering up his clothing, which he stuffed into his bag. 

He bent down to retrieve his cigarette, but that Mr. Way lightly stepped on the boy's fingers. 

"I'll have none of that. Smoking isn't allowed in my school, honey." 

Mr. Way plucked the cigarette from the boy's hand and gracefully tossed it into the metal trash can. 

Frank should have been fuming in anger. This was the second time a man from this school had stolen his cigarette. But odd as it was, he didn't wish for Mr. Way to get hit by a bus, or even walk into busy traffic. 

"Get to class, alright kid?"

Mr. Way calling him 'kid' somehow didn't annoy him, either. It was said endearingly, and from his lips, Mr. Way was allowed to address him as anything he pleased.  
Frank watched him strut from the bathroom like he owned the place; because he kind of did. He also stared at his ass. You can't blame him because who wouldn't? Those pants fit too tightly but perfectly. 

Frank sighed, leaving the bathroom shortly after.

Now there was no way he was about to fall for anyone. Especially a teacher. And especially not a teacher who goes by the name of Mr. Way. Anyone, but Mr. Way. 

But, it was as he feared; he'd already fallen. Frank had made the mistake of making eye contact, which was a code he never broke. He never made eye contact with adults. But then there was this guy, this Mr. Way, with his pretty hands, and his pretty face, and that he was pretty unsure of how to fix a necktie. Frank had fallen so deeply in love with those sparkling hazel eyes, he shuddered just thinking about them. 

But he thought about them as he walked through the door to the classroom. He was in Mr. Way's classroom. And damn it Mr. Way was staring at him--with his sparkley hazel eyes. 

Frank felt his cheeks turning red of embarrassment yet again, and used his arm to shield his face as he made his way around the desks and staring boys. He pulled out his scuffed, black sunglasses and put them on to hide his anxiousness. If everyone thought he was cool to begin with, they couldn't tease him about how his eyes were fixed upon Mr. Way's lips as he talked, especially if they couldn't see his eyes at all.  
He slumped down in his seat, next to some kid with a big forehead. He learned the kid's name was Brendon something as Mr. Way began taking role call. 

"Is Frank...Leeroh present? No. That's not right. um- how do you pronounce this anyway?" 

Frank rolled his eyes. No one ever got his last name right--but it was spoken by Mr. Way, Frank would let it slide. As mentioned before, the man he now had a stupid crush on could call him anything. 

"Its' Frank Iero. With an 'i'. And yeah, I'm here." 

Mr. Way's hand flung to his chest as if he'd just been accused of something wrong. 

"You're Frank? What a coincidence." 

Frank just shrugged; he did that a lot. 

"Not really."

Mr. Way pressed his leaky pen to the paper on the clipboard and checked off Frank's name with a dainty flick of his wrist, pinky flaired and all. Frank needed to stop focussing on his hands because his thoughts were escalating into something dirty. 

"It's a coincidence if I say it is, alright? And, Frank, sweetie, lose the shades." Mr. Way, used his pen to point out Frank's shiny glasses, then smugly crossed his arms. 

Everyone turned to stare at Frank, even that Brendon kid who's last name Frank mistook for urine because Mr. Way just can't pronounce anything today. 

Frank shamefully, but swiftly, picked the glasses from his face and put them in his pocket.

Ah public humiliation at it's finest. Mr. Way was an expert at making you fall in love with him and cutting down your ego. 

"Thanks, Frankie." Mr. Way smiled devilishly towards Frank, then sat at his big wooden desk. 

Frankie? Who does he think he is? 

The entire class turned to laugh at him, and Frank flipped them off. 

"Mr. Iero!" Mr. Way said, almost getting the pronunciation correct, "That is unacceptable." He gasped half heartedly. (Frank knew he didn't care at all about swearing).

"As unacceptable as your tight pants? Cause I can see everything from back here." Frank blurted out too confidently. 

A series of 'ooos' echoed around the classroom. This new kid had really done it now. Well, it was nice knowing him. They'd attend his funeral. 

But Mr. Way didn't react at all how he usually did when some smart mouthed kid spat snarky remarks.

The teacher actually laughed.

He would've spit out his coffee if he wasn't so dependant of it. He lowered the thick coffee mug from his mouth, swallowed, and set it back down again. 

"What am I going to do with you, Frankie?" 

Frank forget all about his reliance on cigarettes, and would've gladly handed them over too if it meant he could talk back to the one and only Mr. Way without being sentenced to hell. 

"I don't know, Mr. Way." Frank smirked teasingly, "what will you do with me?" 

~~~~

About two hours later, the boys were dismissed for their lunch break, and Frank, being the rebel he was, lit a cigarette with his trusty lighter and invited himself to one of the tables. 

"You know you'll get detention for smoking," the Brendon kid warned, taking a seat across from the brave eighteen year old who dared to back talk Mr. Way. 

Frank just stared at him through the thick lenses of his sunglasses. 

"Think I care?" Frank asked, taking a long, defiant, drag from the cigarette. 

"No. Not really." 

"You guessed right."

"You're uh, new around here, aren't you?" Brendon tore the plastic wrap from his sandwich and tossed it on his orange tray. 

"Yeah, I am. My parents are trying to control me by sending me here. I hate them. But, I'll be graduating school next year, so then I can do what I want." 

"And what is it you wanna do?" 

"With my life? Not much, but I do know I'm going to be a guitar player. I'll smoke all the cigarettes I want, maybe start a band, and before the school year's up, kiss a certain teacher." 

Brendon's eyes widened, his pupils were like, almost as wide as his forehead. But Frank, although he didn't care much about honesty, knew quite a bit about modesty. So he kept his comments to himself. 

"You...you like Mr. Way?! No way!" 

"Shhh! I didn't say Mr. Way-- I said 'a certain teacher,' and even if it was Mr. Way, it's not like I'd tell you." 

Frank wasn't hungry anymore and pushed his tray away. There wasn't room for food what with all the butterflies clambering around in his stomach. He could not fathom he just openly admitted to liking a teacher. And this Brendon Urine--or whatever his name was--had nearly gotten a confession: 

Yes, okay. I'll admit it. I'm in love with Mr. Way. And his hands, and his maniacal but adorable grin, those tight pants, his obliviousness of tying neckties, the way his hips swayed when he walked, and those stupidly gorgeous hazel eyes that could see right through you. 

 

Frank didn't say any of that. He was too macho for that. He wasn't in love with a teacher. Or a man. He wasn't gay. He fucking couldn't be gay. Frank Iero and gay weren't ever supposed to be said in the same sentence. But then that Mr. Way showed up. He figuratively grabbed Frank by the throat whilst bedazzling him with his entire being and dragged him into a pit of rainbows and glitter and shit.

That Mr. Way hypnotized Frank into being exactly what his father despised; not only was Mr. Iero's son rebellious, he was gay.  
But, Frank didn't like his father, and wasn't complaining about the thought of Mr. Way's tongue in his mouth, so it was fine. 

At this realization, Frank didn't care who knew he had a thing for the school master who'd seen him in his underwear. Honestly, he might as well grab a megaphone and announce it to the entire world. 

"Can you keep a secret?" Frank whispered, suspiciously eyeing the courtyard for any signs of eavesdroppers. 

"Yeah, sure. What type of secret? Like I just killed someone and hid the body under my bed secret? Or I left the bathroom without washing my hands secret?"

Frank rolled his eyes, "no, not like that. Like...I like guys kinda secret." He held his breath until Brendon spoke again, which was after he finished the last bite of his apple and tossed the core over his shoulder. 

"Oh," he chuckled slyly, "that kind of secret." He leaned in closer, shielding the corner of his mouth and speaking in a hushed tone, "I like guys, too." 

Frank finally let out the breath he'd been holding, perfect timing too, cause he was about pass out from the lack of oxygen. Mr. Way had already caused him to forget how to breathe, he didn't need to deny himself precious air when the older man wasn't around. 

"Who is it you like?" Frank asked urgently, tapping the ashes of his cigarette onto the picnic table. 

"There's this guy named Patrick, the one who always wears those fedoras. I think he was checking me out last year. He's still single, so if I want him, I'd better make my move soon." 

Frank nodded, tension wearing off. He was practically praying, no, beseeching, that Brendon wasn't hopelessly in love with Mr. Way, too. Thankfully, his prayers were answered, despite how many times Frank skipped church. He couldn't smoke there, could he?

"Oh, yeah, I've seen him. You wanna know who I like?" 

Brendon nodded eagerly. 

"Mr. Way." 

"No way." 

"Yes Way."

Frank felt all tingly inside after spilling his secret--but in a good way. Like after fantasizing over sex kind of way. He didn't tell anyone that, though. Because they, without a doubt, would have known exactly who it was he was daydreaming about. He wondered what Mr. Way's bed felt like, and was it covered in hair dye and coffee spills? He'd have to find out. 

"All I can say after meeting this man, this-Mr. Way, is wow. Also, shouldn't it be considered criminal to look that good in suit pants? Not that I was staring or anything, I'm not as gay as he probably is." 

The bell rang abruptly, signaling that lunch was over. Frank, who couldn't resist, took his chances as the two boys gathered up their trays and headed back inside. 

"You like making bets?" Frank said, putting his sunglasses on top of his head once they'd crowded inside the school. 

Brendon smirked, "you know I do."

"Alright, let's make it a competition. I bet that I can get Mr. Way to fall in love with me before school ends. And if he does, you've gotta ask that Patrick kid out." Frank knew this was risky business, but he couldn't back down now. 

Brendon didn't respond until after most of the boys rushing to class cleared from the narrow hallway. 

"Okay, deal. If he does fall for you, I'll ask Patrick out and I won't tell anyone about your girly crush. If not," Brendon's evil smile signified Frank had just made a deal with the devil. "If not, you've at least gotta get into his bedroom once. Or shower with him in the locker room."

Frank swallowed nervously, running a hand through his hair which knocked the glasses to the carpet. He was scared as hell, but Frank never backed out from a bet. You weren't a true 'man' if you pulled a stunt like that. 

"Okay. Deal." He said, shaking the hand Brendon offered. 

"What's so bad about the showers anyway? Guys shower together all the time during gym."  
Frank snatched up his sunglasses, putting them on again. 

Brendon's sneaky smirk hadn't faded, and Frank was uneasy about it. It was like Brendon knew something he didn't. 

"Oooh boys!" a distracting voice rang from the opposite side of the hall. "Get to class, both of you." He was holding a coffee mug that said something about joining the dark side, (clearly a Star Wars reference), and positioned against door frame like a prostitute. You know that pose, they stand suggestevly slumped against the frame, an arm slightly propped up while the elbow is resting just above with a hand in their hair, eyeing you seductively. 

"Yes, Mr. Way." Brendon nodded, nudging Frank in the ribs. 

"Of course, Mr. Way, I wouldn't miss your class for the world." Frank gushed, and his cheeks might have turned a faint pink. 

"Didn't think so, sugar. Hurry up, you're gonna be late." Mr. Way took a sip from his mug before striding down the hallway ahead of the two boys. He disappeared into the classroom, awaiting Frank's return. 

"Damn, he's got you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?" Brendon snickered.

"Shut up, man." Frank shushed. They reached the homeroom just as the late bell went off. Brendon sat at his desk, winking at him, and Frank fumbled with his cigarette, hastily putting it out on the old desk. 

"What'd I say about smoking in my school, kid?" Mr. Way, who was writing on the chalkboard, turned to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"That it isn't allowed." Frank stated, "but don't worry. I wasn't smoking in your school, I was smoking outdoors." 

The class found this Frank kid astoundingly amusing, and laughed along with him as Mr. Way shook his head. 

"You know I should punish you, Frankie." He said, writing today's lesson on the chalkboard, then rewriting it in cursive to discourage the kids. No one could read that guy's handwriting, not even the English teacher.

"I know," Frank smiled mock innocence detectable in his voice. 

 

The day went on, and Frank could officially say this was the only thing he thanked his parents for. If they hadn't been so displeased with him, they wouldn't have sent him here. But then, Frank decided, they didn't deserve the credit. It was his terrible behavior that got him here, so he wasn't going to award them. If there was such a thing as rewarding bad behavior, then he should get the fucking trophy. 

The week passed gradually, and Frank paid more attention to Mr. Way's pants than he did his art project. He failed miserably, and ending up painting on the wall instead of his canvas. He couldn't help it that Mr. Way leaned over his shoulder and breathed down his neck to whisper 'thank you for being a good boy this week,' and almost caused him to drop his paintbrush. Frank had felt more than the fabric of Mr. Way's pants press against his body as he stood behind him, and that's when Frank kinda spasmed out and jerked his paintbrush against and off the canvas and onto the wallpaper. 

Mr. Way had only rolled his eyes, ruffled Frank's hair, and then left him alone. 

That man had no idea what he was doing to Frank's emotions, or his uh- you get the idea.  
Body parts were weird in Frank's opinion, but so was Mr. Way. 

On Friday, the class was required to take a math test, and Frank didn't know the answer to problem 13. He raised his hand and asked for help as he drank from his water bottle. Mr. Way said the answer was '69' and Frank just about choked on his water. 

Everything was going as fine as fine could be, until Monday morning rolled around and Frank had read the calender hung in music room.  
He'd only snuck in there because he wanted spare guitar strings he hadn't the money to buy. Sometimes, Frank stole things. He just did. 

But, he'd realized it was October. A month had passed. He had been focussing more on his history essay than trying to seduce Mr. Way. Which was proving to be disastrous.

So far, he sucked at writing, and flirting. He thought about ignoring his feelings and preoccuping himself with homework, but the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach every time he glanced at Mr. Way, told him that flirting was a much more needed skill of survival in life then writing. 

The thought made him nauseous, worse then butterflies. He had to do it, he wasn't sure why, but his whole life he'd relied on uncertainty.  
His hands were trembling violently as he stalked down the hall in search of the guy he could hopefully count on for advice. 

He saw him towards the end of the gym, sprawled out lazily on the bleachers, phone in hand. 

Frank darted across the gym with astonishing speed, and managed to avoid the dodge balls thrown back and fourth. He refused to participate in sports in general, but dodge ball was worse then getting your head dunked in a public toilet. 

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Frank huffed, out of breath. He hunched over and rested his hands on his knees as Brendon glanced up from his phone. 

"Sure. What is it?" Brendon's eyes were glued to the phone screen, obviously he was invested in something more intriguing then Frank's hormonal teenage girl problems. 

"Dude, it's serious," Frank insisted, waving his hand distractingly in front of his friend's face. 

Brendon sighed, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms. 

"What is it?" 

Frank picked up a ball that had strayed from the on-going game and chucked it at some random guy. 

 

"Okay, so like, I know the school year isn't nearly over, but I'm like, freaking out. My fingers brushed against Mr. Way's when I handed him my book report and he didn't even bat an eyelash or anything. Is my charm wearing off? Why isn't he drooling over me like I am him?"  
Frank stopped rambling to take a breath, and glared down at Brendon. He was laughing, and he'd turned his phone back on as he stayed seated on the first bench.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Frank growled, "what's wrong with me? Why doesn't he like me back?" 

"Because you're a kid, that's why. He's like, old. Thirty year old, hot guys don't wanna have sex with kids who wear the same shorts for three days." 

Brendon smiled mockingly, shrugging as if saying 'I don't really give a shit.' Which, he didn't.

Frank felt his anger boiling up inside of him. It started at his feet, then like a temperature, skyrocketed past a hundred degrees. Brendon was being a complete jerk, and once Frank's fury made its way through his bloodstream and flowed to his fingers, his hands were around Brendon's neck and they were both on the floor in a millisecond. 

"What the hell, dude?!" Brendon choked out, struggling to breathe. 

Frank just kept squeezing harder until he was sure Brendon's eyes would pop from their sockets. To his dismay, that wasn't about to happen. Someone lifted his light body from the brown haired kid, prying his fingers away. 

"That's enough! I want both of you in the head master's office this instant." 

Frank wasn't about to let Brendon get away with this. While kicking and throwing punches he elbowed the gym teacher, Josh Dun, in the nose, and broke free again. He was on top of Brendon for the second time, but before he could cause further damage to the guy's annoyingly perfect cheekbones, he heard footsteps and a familiar "that's enough of that, kid." 

Mr. Way marched over to the boys, stepping around the little splatters of bloody saliva splattering the basketball court. 

"You just don't know when to stop, do you, Frankie?" The school master sighed in exasperation, hands on his curvy hips as he shifted them. Frank stopped beating Brendon's face in to look up at the crotch of Mr. Way's slim fitting pants. He wore a dark grey vest today, with matching slacks. His tie was florescent blue, with pink stripes zigzagging horizontally across. So weird, just like Mr. Way.

Brendon used Frank's preoccupation with Mr. Way's crotch to knee him in the groin and shove him to the scratched gym floor.

"Hey! Be gentle, he's hurt!" Although his hands were again covered in blue ink stains, (those damn leaky pens), he scooped Frank up in his arms with evident concern.

"I'm sorry, sir, he was starting fights. I'll see to it he's punis-" Josh began, helping a dizzy Brendon to his feet. 

"That won't be necessary," Mr. Way interrupted, "I'll handle it." 

He carried Frank from the gym before anything more could be said and went straight to his office. Not ever had a student been in Mr. Way's office unless they were in a load of trouble, but this was Frank Iero, and the last thing on the school instructor's mind was to scold the poor boy. 

He sat Frank down on his desk after brushing away the heap of papers and report cards. 

"Look at you, you're a mess," he fussed. Frank wiped at the blood trickling down his nose.

"Yeah, kind of," he shrugged casually.

"Oh my, and you're bleeding. Don't move darling, I'll be right back," the man scurried from the office in distress and returned shortly with a damp washcloth. If Frank didn't want sympathy from the man, he would've grinned ear to ear at being called 'darling.' 

Mr. Way whimpered an 'aww' sound before dabbing at the blood on Frank's cheek. 

"Here, use these to stop the bleeding." He handed Frank a wad of paper towels, "Tilt your head foreword dear, not up, you'll swallow blood. Yes, like that, that's good." 

The teenager silently nodded, resisting the urge to grab his favorite teacher by the arms and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. He hadn't been this close to Mr. Way before, and noticed he smelled of cigarette smoke, coffee, and ink. How ironic. 

"You okay now, Frankie?" He continued to gently wipe the blood, now from Frank's chin. 

"Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Mr. Way." 

"Of course, dear. Anything else you need?" 

Frank wanted to say 'you. I need you, Mr. Way.' But that would be too clichè, so he just shook his head and kept his mouth shut.  
Frank was blushing madly at how close the two were; Mr. Way was standing right between his dangling legs as he sat on the cluttered desk. 

"What's your name, Mr. Way?" Frank spoke up. It had been on his mind for a while--also, if he was going to be Mr. Way's real boyfriend instead of imaginary, he wanted to know his name. Because he would be at some point, right? Obviously.  
If he wasn't by the end of the year he had to shower Mr. Way or like, lie in his bed for some reason. Brendon came up with some weird stalker shit is what it really broiled down to. 

"I'm only telling you because you're cute, kid. It's Gerard." Gerard smiled with all his teeth. Frank loved it when he did that. Kinda made it less believable that he was supposed to be like, Satan of this school or something. But that was according to Ray. On another note, had Gerard just called him cute? Frank totally wasn't fangirling or anything like that. 

Gerard patted Frank's knee affectionately, but like in a motherly way or something, and that deducted about ten points from the 'you're cute' remark.

"Guess I'd better get going so Brendon can get payback or whatever," Frank sighed, hopping from the desk. Gerard's body brushed up against his, and let's just say Frank was excitedly pleased. 

"Hey, uh, if that Brendon guy tries anything, you let me know." 

"Why of course, Gee." 

"Gee?" 

Frank just grinned mischievously before practically skipping from the office. Today was going to be a good day, even though he still wasn't precise Gee was in love with him, but he was straddling his waist earlier, so that had to count for something. 

Another few weeks flew by in no time. 

Frank spent the weekends in his room, which he shared with this weird guy called Bob. Bob was odd. He was one of those antisocial types, he didn't talk much, but when did, he was rambling something about government conspiracies. Bob went through packs of gum like Frank did cigarettes, but because of his irrational fear of being spied on, he didn't spit his gum in the trashcan, he kept it so the government couldn't 'clone' him. There were wads of gum on Bob's nightstand, and Frank didn't care what kind of secret service was going to track the blond kid down when he pitched the gum.  
So yeah, that guy was strange, but it was better than rooming with Brendon. After the brawl in the gym last week, he was giving Frank the cold shoulder.  
Frank was almost positive Brendon 'hated his guts' as of now. Apparently Patrick had been there in the gym with everyone else who'd stopped the intense game of dodge ball to watch the fight. And apparently, Patrick wasn't one to throw punches to solve problems. He thought Brendon had started it or something and now he was afraid to even look at him. 

Apart from being paranoid that Brendon might attack him at any moment, he was doing okay. That was until he'd met up with Bob behind the school. They didn't care about rules anyway, and the sex ed teacher, Mr.Ashley Purdy, was just a pervert in general, so skipping his class was fine with them even though they got detention. 

"You know this will be the third time we've gotten detention this month," Bob pointed out, because he kept track of stuff like that.

Frank didn't. 

"Yeah, I know. But Mr. Purdy is just too damn perverted," Frank replied, wrinkling his nose in displeasure. 

"I hear ya, man. Lucky for us he's as straight as Mr. Way is gay, cause if he wasn't, he'd have every guy in the school in his bed." 

"You think? And all at once? Like, that's beyond a threesome, and it gets weird from there." 

Bob just shrugged, but Frank didn't take his know-it-all attitude lightly. Bob thought he knew everything just because he could occasionally predict the weather and stupid stuff like that. 

"So, you talked to Brendon at all lately?" Frank exhaled through his clenched teeth, watching the smoke drift into the air above them. 

"Me? No way. I stay away from that guy. He's trouble." 

Frank raised his eyebrow, giving a 'oh really, and I'm not?' kind of look. 

"Nah, dude. Worse than you. Did you know he videotaped these two guys in the showers a few years ago?" Bob said this as if everyone knew it. 

"Wait, what?! That's messed up," Frank shook his head, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

"Yeah, and get this. So, the guy wouldn't date him, he liked some other dude, and cause Brendon's the psychotic narcissist that he is, he videotaped the guy and his boyfriend doing 'it' in the shower." 

Frank shuddered uncomfortably, adjusting his sunglasses so he could better hide himself in case the 'psychotic narcissist' was lurking the courtyard. 

"You think that's bad but there's more. He blackmailed the guy into a relationship with him, and cause he's just a douchebag, posted the video on the school's website. Everyone saw it. The guy tried to like, kill himself later. It was freaky." 

Frank listened quietly until it hit him. He dropped his cigarette and jabbed a finger at Bob. 

"Dude! He was trying to persuade me to shower with Gerard!" Frank felt sick to his stomach, like he did on Halloween after eating too much crappy candy. 

"That's messed up!" Bob grimaced, taking out his pack of peppermint gum and unwrapping his fourth piece. 

"I know!" Frank exclaimed, waving his arms like a maniac. 

"Better stay away from Brendon, and showers. And if you're like, forced to shower with him after gym, don't drop the soap." Bob winked teasingly, nudging Frank's arm. 

"You're gross!" Frank laughed, shoving him. 

 

Bob grinned, playing with his lip ring momentarily, "Hey, at least I'm not as dirty minded as Mr. Purdy." 

"True, true. I'm afraid to have sex now cause of him." Frank confessed humorously. 

Bob nodded in agreement, "me too." 

The bell rang for the final time that day as the boys dashed inside. Frank remembered to stomp out his cigarette and 'lose the shades,' as Mr. Way had said. 

Ah Mr. Way. 

Strangely enough, Frank hadn't been blessed with the dazzling presence of Mr. Way and his perfect face as he and Bob climbed the staircase to their room. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Mr. Way at all today. He understood that teachers deserved a day off, they were a torturous bunch, the boys of Belleville's prep school. It would be lying to say none of them behaved as boys of their age should. So yes, Mr. Way did deserve a break, it was Friday after all. Mr. Way always disappeared somewhere on Fridays. Everyone knew that. But class was dismissed for the day, and Frank would rather spend hours searching for Gerard then sit in he and Bob's room, enduring lectures about whether or not Bob really saw aliens last Tuesday. 

"Hey, um, I'll see you later, okay? I've gotta..." Before Frank could finish his sentence, Bob had already ensnared this short Mexican kid into a debate about the government using squirrels to spy on shady looking kids such as themselves. 

"Think about it though, squirrels are like elephants or something. They remember everything. What if you were caught smoking weed behind some Chinese restaurant and all of the sudden a squirrel is watching you, they'll remember your face and report back to the cops. I'm serious, man. Their eyes are definitely cameras--" 

Frank rolled his eyes so far they almost seeped into the back of his head. This was something he didn't want to hear--or even think about.

"Good luck getting away from him," Frank waved to the kid with dark hair that reached his shoulders, also known as Vic. Frank only remembered cause he liked his hair. 

Frank raced down the stairs, hearing Vic groan in distress. 

Frank would've stayed in case he needed to distract Bob so Vic could make a getaway, but he needed to find Mr. Way before any heroic act of saving the ticked off Mexican kid was played out. 

The school had so many rooms and twists and turns it was easy to get lost in. Kind of like Gerard's glittery hazel eyes. 

One room could lead to another, or even a flight of stairs; sometimes a storage closet if you weren't careful. Bob was '99.9% percent sure' those broom closest were 'haunted.'

But Frank, and everyone else, knew that was BS.

Apart from being completely ignorant, he was still confident in his journey to Mr. Way's office. As he reached the door he paused a moment; should he really just barge into the head master's office uninvited? Probably not. But he was Frank Iero, and even he knew there was an exception for him. The heated scenario playing out in his mind spurred his curiosity and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

Frank quietly opened the door, slipping inside the office. The lights were dimmed, the blinds closed along with the curtains. Papers were scattered about the floorboards, and stacked conveniently on the antique arm chair. The room was a mess, which wasn't a surprise, but the amount of empty bottles piled on and beside Gerard's desk were. Frank hadn't seen them the last time he was in here, but that was weeks ago. He still melted at the remembrance of Gerard calling him 'cute' and that thought is what put one leg in front of the other and carried him further into the room, until he was standing in the center. 

"Gerard? Are you-oh. Hey." Frank spotted the man leaning out of his window, and when hearing the intruder, Gerard gasped. His reaction was slow, delayed almost, as he turned to Frank, grinning crazily with a cigarette between his teeth. 

What a hypocrite.

"Frankie! How did you find me in here?!" He grabbed the boy by the shoulders, pulling him into an awkward hug, which escalated into clinging. Frank wasn't complaining, even though something seemed a little...off. 

"You know you shouldn't be in here," Gerard scolded lightly, swaying as he stood after breaking the embrace. 

"Yeah, I know, but I missed you." 

"You did? That's sweet. " 

"Do you think I could stay in here and like, talk about things? I'm bored and Bob's being fucking weird again. Do you think he's bipolar or something?"  
Gerard didn't answer, and Frank frowned slightly, feeling as though his existence wasn't even noticed. 

"Mr. Way...are you okay?"  
Frank's voice trembled a little when watching as Gerard snatched up one of those bottles and brought it to his lips as he dropped his cigarette to the floor, stomping it out before it could catch fire to anything. 

"I'm okay, I promise. And I'm not drunk or anything I'm just a little stoned." Gerard giggled, leaning against his desk for support. He clearly was drunk, and a little stoned. 

If Gerard's reason for staring off into space, eyes glassy and dazed, was due to some majestic masterpiece he was painting in his mind, Frank would have watched him silently, smiling, and thinking it was the most adorable sight in the world. But that's not case. Either Mr. Way was a hypocrite, and rule breaker like Frank, or something secretive was going on. 

"Leave me alone, honey. I need to be alone. You shouldn't see me like this." Gerard breathed half consciously.  
Mr. Way was always in his own little world, probably made up of pink blood and rainbows and like, black glitter; but usually was able to act normal. But this--this was probably the furthest from reality Frank had seen. Not only was he rambling nonsense, his arms also found their way around Frank's waist, and his lips to Frank's neck. 

"Actually, you should stay with me. It's lonely here. These walls aren't big on conversation, believe me, I know from experience." Gerard slurred, giggling again. Even though he was drunk, Frank still felt safe with him. He'd stay just a bit longer, then he would go.  
Mr. Way needed a supervisor anyway, and Frank could supervise even better while in his arms. 

"I-I um...Gerard, I don't think-" 

Gerard shushed him, whispering against the back of his head. 

"That's Mr. Way to you, and would you take me to my room before I pass out on the floor?"

"Of course, Mr. Way." 

A few staircases and a cigarette later, Frank managed to help a very drunk Mr. Way to his bedroom on the second floor--which Frank didn't even know existed.  
Even as much as Frank enjoyed the rebellious life style he lived, smoking, partying hard, and drinking, it pained him to see Gerard tripping over his feet as he dragged him up stairs. 

It was dark outside by now, and fortunately, Mr. Way was probably about to black out soon, and hopefully stay that way until tomorrow morning. Frank was just going to make sure Gerard actually made it to his bed first.

Frank stood in the doorway as Gerard collapsed onto his unmade sheets and kicked his shoes off. He groaned into his pillow. 

"Ya know, I don't do this all the time, just sometimes," he said, words jumbled and voice muffled.

Frank just nodded. 

"Why do you do it? Or, why tonight?" 

There was a pause, then a bitter silence.

"Life sucks when you're alone, you know?" 

Again, Frank nodded. 

"Yeah. I do. No one likes me though, so I'm used to it I guess." 

"Well, I like you, Frankie." 

Frank felt his heart skip a beat, then stop all together. His eyes went wide and he forced himself to leave the doorway to sit on the foot of Mr. Way's bed. It wasn't how he'd imagined it, covered in sparkles and coffee and hair dye; but the school master actually had a freaking Star Wars comforter, so that made him even cooler in Frank's eyes. 

"B-but...that's impossible. I'm nothing special and you're so cool and I'm not...I try to be-" 

"I'm not cool, kid." 

"Yeah you are! You're like, the best teacher ever, you're super hot and just, damn it, you keep doing stuff to me, you have no idea. You make me feel like...someone actually wants me."

Gerard lifted his head, wincing at the sudden headache. 

"Cause someone does want you, I do."

Frank didn't know if it was the alcohol speaking or if that's really how Gerard felt. But, he couldn't contain himself as he threw his arms around Gerard's neck, hugging him closer than he had anyone.

"I'm loving all the attention, honey, but I can't breathe." 

"O-oh! Oops, sorry." Frank blushed deeply, jumping off the man's torso. 

"I didn't say to stop- undo this tie, will you?" 

Frank nodded, and within no time the tie was on the floor--and Mr. Way's vest and white button up, which was soon joined with Frank's shirt.

Frank was pulled on top of him, but Gerard remained dominate, clutching Frank's small hips, digging his nails into the exposed skin. 

"Ah- M-Mr. Way, isn't this wrong?" Frank gasped anxiously, closing his eyes tightly in pleasure at feeling Gerard under him.

"It's only as wrong as you want it to be, Frankie," Gerard smirked, pinning Frank's hands above his head and connecting their lips. Frank didn't resist, kissing back just as passionately. All Frank could think about was how shocked Brendon would be at seeing this; it only made him want to 'accidentally' record a sex tape, and 'accidentally' e-mail it to the jerk. 

"Just be good for me and I'll be nice, alright?" Gerard whispered against Frank's lips. He could taste scotch and cigarette smoke, but it didn't bother him. He liked it, and he liked Mr. Way. 

"I do hope to being seeing you next year," Gerard, now switching positions, was straddling the boy. 

"Y-yeah, m-me too, but I graduate at the end of this year-" Frank breathed heavily, staring up with lust filled eyes.

"I could always hold you back another year, would you like that? I'd do anything to hear your pretty moaning again," Gerard smirked teasingly, stroking Frank's cheek. He kissed him again, sliding his tongue into Frank's mouth. 

"O-okay, that's fine with me," Frank panted, breaking apart from the kiss.

"Okay, Frankie. Anything for you." Gerard ran his hands up and down the boy's sides, giggling drunkly. He began to grind his hips against Frank's, smiling smugly as Frank moaned while arching his back underneath him. 

"Anything for you, Frankie." 

The next morning, Gerard woke up with a hangover-- and he cringed once realizing he wasn't wearing anything. His eyes scanned the floor for any signs of his clothing, but Frank had already taken care of cleaning up the mess. 

"If I had drunk sex with Ray I swear-" 

"Morning, Gee. I made you some coffee." 

Gerard didn't think it was possible to choke on your own saliva, or air, but he proved himself wrong as he did just that; then sat gaping at the teenager wearing his white button up and his striped socks. 

"W-what...h-how did you..." 

"Last night was amazing," Frank winked, smirking and nudging his stunned homeroom teacher. 

"Here, take this as well. It's Advil or aspirin or whatever." 

He handed Gerard the coffee mug and pills, smiling innocently. 

"Did we...?" Gerard began, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down with a swig of coffee. 

"Mhm. You're really hot." 

Gerard choked on his coffee, coughing and sputtering it all over Frank's face. 

"Not cool, Gerard." Frank huffed, using the sleeve of the shirt that wasn't his to dry his face. 

"I'm so fired! Frank! I could lose my job!" 

Frank stayed chill, cause he was like that. 

"No you won't, loser. I'm officially nineteen today."  
Frank grinned, crossing his arms. 

"It's your birthday?" 

"Yep! Best birthday present I've ever gotten, if ya know what I mean." 

Gerard whimpered, covering his face, and pulling his Star Wars sheets over himself. 

"That doesn't discard the fact that I'm eternally ashamed and humiliated." 

"Oh shut up and kiss me, it's my birthday." 

Gerard peeked through his fingers at the boy, sighing in defeat. 

"Happy birthday, kid," he pecked Frank's lips affectionately, ruffled his hair, and then buried his face in his hands again. 

"Don't be embarrassed Mr. Way, you have a nice butt. Also, do I still have to refer to you as 'Mr. Way?' Or can I just keep callin' ya Gee?" 

"This conversation is over, Frank. I'm taking a shower." 

"Can I co-" 

"No! Look. I love you. Now sit there until I come back. I've gotta...rethink my life." 

"Alright, Gee, Happy Halloween." 

Gerard stood up, still wrapped in sheets as he sulked to the bathroom. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." 

"I know you love me!" 

Frank heard the bathroom door slam, but didn't hear the lock 'click.' He took that as an invitation to barrel through the door and surprise Gee by jumping in the shower behind him. So he did. 

Gerard actually screamed, hit Frank with a bar of soap, and said something about teenagers scaring the living shit outta him. He did finally give in and let Frank stay, only because it was his birthday- also because he was Frank Iero, and for Frank, there was an always an exception. Everyone knew that.


End file.
